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Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
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The staff's gazes could no longer be described as merely fanatical. Their eyes now resembled ravenous wolves fixated on prey, as if ready to tear and devour at any moment.
Even after witnessing that terrifying scene moments before, their fervor hadn't diminished in the slightest.
No—if anything, it was precisely because of what they'd seen that their excitement had grown even more intense.
Ruan Qing couldn't comprehend this mentality, nor did he want to. A faint sense of regret had already begun to gnaw at him.
But it was too late for regrets now. There was no turning back.
If his disguise were exposed, the consequences would be unimaginable.
His only choice was to commit fully to this charade and continue playing the role of the Evil God.
Ruan Qing and Xia Qing were fundamentally different. Xia Qing's pride had long been worn away by a year of university life, leaving him timid and insecure most of the time. His perpetually gloomy demeanor made people overlook his striking features.
Despite sharing the same exquisitely beautiful face, Xia Qing only gave off an impression of plainness—someone who failed to inspire even the slightest fondness.
Ruan Qing, on the other hand, had never known what it meant to feel inferior. Even if he tried, he could never truly replicate Xia Qing's deeply ingrained self-loathing.
And now, disguised as the Evil God, the contrast was even more pronounced. No one would possibly connect the two—at least, not in this moment.
Because the Ruan Qing standing before them now was the picture of arrogance and indifference. The intricate, opulent robes and his breathtakingly perfect features made him seem utterly untouchable, reducing even the cruise ship's dazzling lights to mere background scenery.
In the interplay of light and shadow, it was as though the illumination itself bowed in reverence to him.
At this moment, he was the Evil God.
The lofty, untouchable Evil God, for whom nothing in this world was worthy of notice.
But...
Every person present stared fixedly at the figure in the air, their hearts pounding violently, blood roaring through their veins. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, their minds incapable of holding a single thought beyond this moment.
It was the overwhelming rush of adrenaline—pure, intoxicating euphoria.
Yet alongside that excitement festered something twisted and dark, taking root in their hearts before spreading like wildfire, consuming their bodies and devouring their reason.
He was so exalted, so far beyond reach—yet when those cold, indifferent eyes glanced downward, it ignited something primal within them.
A strange... almost bestial impulse.
The urge to lunge at him like a rabid dog, to wrap their hands around that pale throat and tear away those sacred robes. To sink their teeth into that slender neck and drag him down from his divine pedestal—to force those indifferent eyes to see only them, to reflect nothing but them.
Even more, they wanted to chain him with iron shackles, to devour him piece by piece, to make him show expressions of humiliation and surrender - to completely possess him.
The youth was clearly immensely powerful, yet he silently tempted people into harboring forbidden desires, making them want to drag him down into the abyss together.
More than the evil deity of legend, the youth resembled a siren from mythology or a seductive ghost from folklore. Merely standing there quietly, he induced depravity and obsession.
The staff members' minds became battlegrounds, their hearts twisting as if each person had been split in two.
One voice insisted that such lowly creatures as seductive ghosts couldn't possibly compare to their deity - even having these dark thoughts was an insult to the Evil God.
Yet another voice argued back: This is what you truly want - to tear at the deity's robes, to consume him completely, to paint his face with expressions other than indifference.
Even just imagining it made their hearts flutter with guilty pleasure, their eyes burning with intensified excitement, like filthy sewer rats who'd stumbled upon premium cheese.
This excitement was impossible to suppress or conceal.
The gathered crowd desperately wanted to regain reason, but the memory of their deity's aloof demeanor and his effortless destruction with just a hand gesture made self-control impossible.
Most people worship strength, and in this moment that worship reached its extreme, making them lose command of both hearts and minds.
None could resist such a powerful and beautiful being - especially one they'd spent centuries summoning to the mortal realm.
In this moment, they'd forgotten their original purpose for summoning the Evil God, forgotten the reverence they should maintain. Now they only wanted to drag the youth into corruption with them, willing to embrace even death as a sweet end.
Yet none forgot what they'd just witnessed.
With just a gesture, the deity had annihilated everything around him.
If he became aware of their thoughts, he might reduce them to nothingness without a trace.
As devoted cultists who'd repeatedly orchestrated summoning rituals, these staff members had never feared death.
But now, none were willing to die so easily.
All concealed their irreverence, forcing themselves to appear as proper devotees should.
One staff member willingly lowered his head, prostrating himself completely, his voice trembling with barely contained fervor.
"Great Evil God, please calm your anger. We revere you completely and submit to you wholeheartedly."
The staff member's voice snapped everyone to attention. No longer staring directly at the floating youth, they all lowered their heads in unison, repeating the words in an attempt to appease their deity.
"Great Evil God, please calm your anger. We revere you completely and submit to you wholeheartedly."
While everyone maintained this posture of submission, their lowered heads hid expressions that were now completely unrestrained - eyes brimming with excitement and madness, even carrying a hint of predatory desire.
This was their covetous gaze toward the exalted Evil God.
Even Lin Zhiyan was no exception. The once composed and dignified cruise director, the well-bred noble earl, had become just like the other staff members - a fanatical worshiper of the Evil God.
A worshiper so deranged he dared to covet the deity himself.
Hidden players in the shadows couldn't see this. The kneeling staff couldn't see it. And Ruan Qing, floating high above, certainly couldn't see. But the live audience saw everything clearly.
[Holy shit holy shit! They're talking about submission but look like they're about to pounce any second! Since when does submission look like this???]
[Shivers... Why do I feel like wifey is in serious danger here? The way these guys are looking at him makes my heart tremble. Wifey better stay safe and definitely not fall into these dogs' hands!]
[OMG they look like they're about to gang up on wifey! How could wifey handle so many of them! Get away from him - let me handle this instead!]
[Who could resist such a wifey? If I were there I'd probably have jumped him already wuwuwu.]
[Try jumping him and you'll die instantly lol. Did you not see how everything nearby got obliterated when he just slightly raised his hand? You'd be jumping straight to hell.]
[Wait, I don't think that was wifey's doing. After killing that monster earlier, he could barely stand and had to lean against walls to walk. Probably some item effect.]
[Item uses are limited though. For something this powerful, the restrictions must be severe. Even if multi-use, probably once per dungeon max. Wifey's really in danger here.]
The "Qi Lintian" lying on the ground observed these ants' gazes with dark, ominous eyes, displeasure growing. "His" fingers twitched slightly, but ultimately "He" refrained from acting.
The summoning ritual had not been activated, and the ceremony had not succeeded—"He" had not truly descended in physical form.
"He" had awoken only because of the Demon's Eye. Without a true physical form, "He" could not fully control "His" power, and any careless action might harm the bold young man who stood before "Him."
The figure disguised as Qi Lintian glanced at the young man floating in the air before coldly lowering his gaze.
Insignificant ants. Not worth concern.
The atmosphere on the cruise ship's third floor was suffocating and terrifying, eerily synchronized with the storm raging outside. The staff, though bowing in submission, were frenzied with excitement, as if participating in some horrifying rite.
The players watched in shock—some even felt the inexplicable urge to kneel, to submit to the young man before them.
He was like a flame in a dark forest. Even knowing that approaching meant death, moths would still throw themselves toward him without hesitation.
Some players had already dropped to their knees.
Ran Jia's eyes widened in disbelief as she spotted Qi Yi, who had somehow returned. But he wasn't with the players, nor was he hiding. Instead, he wore a staff uniform, kneeling among the cultists, his expression and reactions identical to theirs.
Had she not known he was a player from the start, she would never have recognized him.
What… is Qi Yi planning?
Ruan Qing noticed Qi Yi as well, but he had no time to dwell on why the man had infiltrated the cultists. His entire body was tense, every nerve on edge as he stared down at the sea of kneeling figures.
He had always been sensitive to others' gazes. Even though the staff tried to conceal their stares, he could still sense them—
They weren't looking at him with fear or reverence.
Their gazes were domineering, possessive—even violating.
These cultists didn’t actually revere the Evil God.
At least, not him.
If they realized how weak he truly was—so weak that he could barely stand—
His fingers tightened beneath his robes, his knuckles whitening from the force. Yet his face remained cold and indifferent, betraying nothing.
The records about the Evil God were clear: cultists summoned "Him" to fulfill their desires.
No one had ever successfully summoned the Evil God before, so no one knew if their wishes would truly be granted.
Ruan Qing didn’t know either.
But one thing was certain—
He couldn’t grant them anything.
He didn’t actually have the power to grant wishes.
If these people discovered he couldn't fulfill their desires, they would surely doubt his power, making the situation far more dangerous.
After all, when people's dreams are shattered, they often resort to extremes.
